Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Portugal and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing T. Rex to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by A Flock of Seagulls. All the underground hits.
All Gong tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Starr record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultimate Spinach,
Masters at Work,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Modern Lovers,
Peter and Kerry,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
Scion,
Dave Gahan,
Q65,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Slackers,
Bauhaus,
T.S.O.L.,
June of 44,
Ronan,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jeff Mills,
Little Man,
The Toasters,
Pantaleimon,
Eli Mardock,
The Wake,
Kenny Larkin,
Gichy Dan,
Television,
Procol Harum,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Brass Construction,
Sight & Sound,
Darondo,
Black Pus,
Sun Ra,
Michelle Simonal,
The Pop Group,
Faraquet,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Wolf Eyes,
Radio Birdman,
Black Flag,
Electric Prunes,
Wings,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin,
The Selecter,
Clear Light,
Cameo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Moby Grape,
Pierre Henry,
The Gun Club,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thee Headcoats,
Wasted Youth,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Public Enemy,
The Red Krayola,
Mantronix,
Angry Samoans,
Fear,
Pussy Galore,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.